


Take a Hint

by skerb



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: (kinda), Alternate Universe - Undertail (Undertale), Angst and Porn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward Crush, Awkward Flirting, Cunnilingus, Dress Up, Face-Sitting, Fellcest - Freeform, Fingerfucking, Fontcest, Heavy Petting, Innuendo, Kedgeup, Lemon, M/M, Making Out, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Poor Sans (Undertale), Sacrum Lacing, Sanscest - Freeform, Sensitive bones, Sibling Incest, Soul Sex, SpicyKustard, Sub Sans (Undertale), Threesome - M/M/M, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, kustard - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-19 09:54:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19972108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skerb/pseuds/skerb
Summary: Sans drops a hint that he's into Red's brother. Red and he are already something. Thing is, Red's pretty good at getting what he wants. And boy, does he want to help.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [enneadodeca](https://archiveofourown.org/users/enneadodeca/gifts).



“Alright, sweets. C’mon with me, now.”

Sans was still caught off guard when it came to Red. It was always a mistake to reveal things to him, even when he was essentially Sans, but nor were they exactly the same.

Sans had admitted, for lack of a better term, that he was interested in Edge. In… probably more than one way than sneaking furtive glances at the guy between commercial breaks on rainy nights in.

In Red’s own words, “Down to fuck, eh? Nice. You want me to help you get `im in the sack?”

Sans had tried to keep his cool, but with his crush on Edge becoming more and more evident, Red was wagging his brow and sending lewd grins and gestures his way when he thought Sans wasn’t looking. Much to Sans’ regret. He couldn’t get the picture of Red attempting to fellate a banana at breakfast out of his head.

As some mild sort of revenge, Sans had resorted to withholding whatever affection he craved from Red, and while the other skeleton had propositioned him a time or two, Red was never one to force the subject. God, had he made things frustrating though.

Which is why his current behaviour was suspicious. All too willing to help, trying to get him in the sack for his brother? Sans had his reservations when Red all too eagerly led him into the boss’ room, grinning like a hungry shark the entire time.

“First thing’s first, hun,” Red started as he nonchalantly produced a small tool from his inventory and started to pick the door. “You wanna get in his pants, you’re gonna hafta get into his drawers - literally.”

“You know we can just teleport in there,” Sans retorted, ignoring the joke no matter how much it made him grin and flush. “Why do you gotta show off your tool for me?”

Red gave him a wink but decided to carry on. “You smell like him, he’ll know. You wearin’ his clothes? Will make `im fuck ya into the wall. Guaranteed.” With a satisfying and audible _click,_ the lock snapped open and Red carefully opened the door.

Edge was gone, out at work while Red faffed around at home, pestering Sans with innuendo and bad attempts to get him in bed. Or the couch. Which ever was closest, really. The point was that Red had all the time in the world until Edge came home, and Sans would be never the wiser.

Plus, he’d be doing Edge a favour.

As the two of them crept into the room, Red hung back to quietly close the door behind them. Sans stood in the middle of the large master bedroom, a quiet thrill travelling up his spine when he felt the residual magic, permeated throughout everything Edge owned. The scent of him lingered, of a husky sharp spice that reminded him of fancier places. It hung around him, deep and thick, and Sans could only imagine its source, hanging next to him as he wrapped his arms around Edge’s shoulders as he was kissed, tasting him, being pushed down against the mattress-

Red coughed to catch his attention and Sans felt his soul jump at the sudden noise. Red’s grin was sharper still as he meandered over to the closet, his fingers grazing over the surface of the desk and chair as he passed.

“C’mere, Sansy.”

Sans repressed another shiver, although he wasn’t quite sure about the sultry tone Red had beckoned him with. Regardless, it nestled somewhere between his ribs, settling there as a dense heat. He felt apprehensive about being caught in Edge’s room, and if truth be told, Sans was more than a little concerned about being deserted in the room should the taller skeleton come home early. He wouldn’t put it past Red to teleport out of the room to leave him alone and caught red-handed.

Which was, in itself, quite preposterous, but Sans trusted Red as much as he trusted a barracuda with a new set of knives. The analogy didn’t quite make sense, but then it did all the same.

Red beckoned him again, his expression turned almost sweet. Sans remained cautious as he approached the other skeleton, keeping a distance from a door that undoubtedly led to Edge’s closet. Sans kept his arms close to his body, all free nerves and anxiousness in one small body. He gave Red a grin, feeling all too awkward with him leering at him that way.

“Y’want me to pick somethin’? Or would you rather fondle your way through his clothes? Get nice and acquainted with `em?” Red tutted as he moved in one smooth motion, wrapping an arm around Sans’ shoulders and pulling him close. “Bet he’d really love,” he said quietly, tasting the word so much as he felt it ripple down Sans’ spine, “if he got to see ya in somethin’ that matched his magic. Y’know… just a subtle tell that says, `hey man, I dig ya, an’ I want ya in my pants, so i’m in yer shirt`. Y’know what I mean?”

God, did Sans get the hint. He felt the beat of his soul race faster the longer Red talked, so much that he shrugged off Red’s arm to make sure he couldn’t feel it. Then he pointedly approached the closet and rested his hand on the doorknob, the tingle of protective magic thick in the air.

Red only sniggered beside him, no doubt amused by Sans’ hesitancy. It was fun to tease, always was. But if Sans agonised too much over this, none of them would be able to have a little fun.

So Red reached around Sans’ arm and helped him turn the knob so the door could open. Rows of neatly hung, fairly expensive-looking sweaters, t-shirts, pants, leggings and coats lined around the entire closet in a U-shape, every button fastened with care, every zipper pulled up. Red grinned as he watched Sans’ eye lights flick around a little nervously, no doubt going over Red’s proposition in his head.

Idly, he passed his hand over the first coat he saw, something that looked shapeless on the hanger, but probably looked stunning on Edge. Since it was nearly Sans’ height in length, he opted to pass on that and went further in.

The closet smelled of Edge. Sans tried not to be too affected by it, but the scent was damning if nothing else. He wanted to stay inside and just lay down amongst the clothes, where Edge spent a lot of his time, thinking and planning his days-

He felt his face turn hot when Red’s hand braced the small of his back, urging him further inside. The silent question of _‘Wanna have a quickie?’_ was in his mind in Red’s voice, not even having heard it. He grinned to himself and shook his head, idly swatting at Red’s hand.

Sans tried not to let it get to him. He ventured further in, drawn to sweaters that were oversized, but they fit Edge well enough. His phalanges traced down the soft sleeve of an innocently designed sweater, plain, but god, that was so soft. He tested the fabric between his fingers, enamoured, before he flushed and threw a glare at Red.

“Not a goddamn word,” Sans muttered, ashamed.

Red shrugged, because it was likely he found this more amusing than embarrassing. After all, there was little he was ashamed for. Carefully, he pushed past Sans, getting into his personal space and inhaling by Sans’ neck just to fuck with him. Sans tensed and shoved at him, but he’d already gotten his prize.

“There we go, Sansy,” Red purred, his grin sharpening again. He carelessly pulled the sweater from the hanger and threw it over his shoulder. “One for me. Now pick one for you this time. Make sure ya get one nice `n red.”

“You’re an asshole. There’s no such thing as a nice red.”

Red mockingly blew Sans a kiss and dodged a heavy leather jacket, leaving it in a lump on the floor where it had landed. When Sans made to grab the sweater he was holding, Red danced out of the way and tugged off his own t-shirt, pulling the cream-coloured sweater over his skull in the process.

“Ahhh. So comfortable. You make the best choices.”

Sans really doubted that, considering his choice in partners lately. “Such a dick,” Sans reaffirmed with a scowl and rolled his eye lights. Quickly, he turned his flushed face away so Red couldn’t tease him any more than he already was.

He searched a little further in. Buried between two layers of scarves that sported more tartan than Sans could figure out which direction they were going in, was another sweater. It was plain, just like the one Red was wearing, with set-in sleeves and a ribbed yolk and bottom hem. Immediately he knew this was the one and carefully pulled it from the hanger - because he had a little more respect than Red, thank you very much.

Pointedly ignoring Red’s comments, Sans pulled his hoodie and shirt off, leaving them in a heap on the floor. If he was lucky, maybe he’d get the smell of Edge’s room on them and he could--

Yeah no, he shouldn’t be thinking of that. In fact, Sans wasn’t quite sure why he was doing all of this. The sweater was soft, one of those high-ticket items he’d seen Edge in last winter. The colour was stunning on him. Raising it over his skull, the full scent of the taller skeleton filled his senses, the softness of the fabric caressing his bones and making them warm like Edge’s hands were on him.

Sans shuddered a little, repressing a soft noise of satisfaction. This was probably the weirdest thing Red has convinced him to do yet, but it was so satisfying on every level. The knitted fabric brushed against his ribs when he inched up the sleeves, it feeling like an embrace, tender and warm. He held one side of the shoulder when he risked a glance to Red, the large sweater slipping down his right side.

Red whistled appreciatively, closing the gap between them to help Sans adjust it so it hung just a little better on his body. It was long enough to drop over Sans’ fingertips, the bottom hem just covering his pelvis. Sans averted his eyes when Red carefully smoothed down the front of the sweater, his hands lingering on Sans’ ribs, just to feel him tremble.

“Y’sure y’don’t wanna break in the new clothes?” he whispered huskily. Sans could feel the flame of desire flit down to the base of his spine when Red tugged at his sleeves, as red as Edge’s magic, practically marking him as ‘property of Edge’.

Rolling his eyes, Sans shoved Red away, unable to hide the grin that crept onto his face. Sans pushed past him and out of the closet, leaving the mess where it lay and pointedly ignoring some of the more serious business apparel, hanging alone at the back of the racks.

Sans idled in the centre of the room again, not really knowing what to do with himself. He felt exposed and ensnared, caught in Red’s little trap, although he wasn’t quite sure why. He lingered long enough for Red to push the door to the closet behind him, sending Sans a wicked grin.

He had a pair of scissors in one hand, a spool of narrow fabric in the other. His eyes seemed to glitter with heated interest, grin sharp and almost predatory.

“Oh, no you don’t-” Sans’ grin dropped as he connected two and two together. He wasn’t quite sure how he’d gotten out of it the last time; the night was such a blur and his soul was airy and light that he didn’t remember falling asleep or waking up the following morning after it had happened.

Sacrum lacing. Fuck that. Fuck that notion and fuck Red for even suggesting it.

“Aww, sweetheart,” Red crooned devilishly, approaching while he tauntingly snipped the scissors. “You were so good last time, etcetera.”

“Fuck you and fuck that,” Sans grumbled, heat flooding his face. He felt the twinge echo in his sacrum and the throb in his pubic symphysis at the memory of the insane amounts of pleasure he’d experienced. “No way.”

“Excited, eh?” Red teased.

“Fuck you.”

“You seem adamant on sayin’ that, yeah. But it’s not about me, is it, sweetheart?” his counterpart winked, a wicked grin on his face as he approached. “And dear ol’ bro will miss out. Thought you wanted to make it perfectly clear how y’wanted to `present` yerself to him. An’ what better way than with a bow on top? …Er, bottom, in this case.”

Sans couldn’t hide his shame, flushed and anxious. The sacrum lacing had wrecked him, thoroughly, to the point of losing all faculties, begging Red to finish him off. It continued to throb, to the point where shower thoughts were much less aimless.

Red tossed the roll of fabric. It was a rich bright red ribbon that made Sans immediately think of the brothers’ magics, hot and feral and all-encompassing. He caught it, the promise of something more surging in his body, of Red gathering him up and pushing laces through his sacrum holes to make him writhe and moan-

He must’ve mentally clocked out for a moment, as Red was next to him, grinning like the devil himself. He rubbed the side of his face on Sans’, a hint of a purr rolling as he spoke.

“I just know he’d love to unwrap you… and play with you. An’ just wear ya out.”

More magically potent words have never been spoken. Sans felt them travel down his spine, coaxing his magic to settle with an embarrassing abruptness. He swallowed thickly, not giving his counterpart any reply, but _god,_ his face felt hot.

“Y’seem interested enough. An’ don’t worry, my goal ain’t to wreck ya this time,” Red continued, his eyes drinking in every detail, every tremor that passed through Sans’ body with his words. He let his suggestion sink down Sans’ body, filthy in its description of what Edge might do to Sans, playing on every fantasy Red had picked up that Sans had hinted at, one way or another.

It affected him. He wanted to play with Sans, but he also wanted to let Sans enjoy everything that would be offered to him - collars, food, sex, affection. He almost recoiled from the last thought, but managed to hold his own. Carefully, he caressed the side of Sans’ head, brushing his rough phalanges down his spine to his collarbone.

“Third time’s the charm?” Red asked roughly, needing the confirmation just as much as Sans needed to breathe.

Sans’ breaths had hitched softly, a catch in his voice as though Red was asking too much. To Red’s surprise and eventual smugness, Sans muttered very quietly, “Promise you won’t wreck me.”

Red’s grin sharpened, a wry and incredulous thing that bordered on sardonic. “What, little ol’ me?”

“You can’t pre-wreck a gift,” Sans found himself saying. He thought for a moment that he had to mentally reboot after admitting it, but he swallowed hard and continued. “It won’t last, otherwise. That’s just rude.”

Red levelled him with a penetrating look and caressed the blades of the scissors in his hands, looking idly playful.

“Nah. Wouldn’t want that.”

Sans grinned nervously, his grin crooked with his uncertainty. “I mean, you can’t mess up the wrapping either.”

Red snuck an arm around Sans’ middle, crooning softly with mock affection. God, he loved it when Sans tried to bargain. Carefully, because he was an ass, Red slipped his hand into Sans’ shorts pocket and held onto his hip to give a squeeze. He felt the shudder go through Sans and saw the faint bloom of cyan magic, pretty and strange and all guarded _want._

“I’ll be careful, then.” It was probably the most tender he’d been with Sans in awhile. Neither of them were used to it.

True to his word, he led Sans to the floor, cradling his shoulders with one arm as Red pushed a kiss against Sans’ temple. He felt another tremble, one of anticipation and excitement ripple through his counterpart’s body, shuddering down Sans’ spine. Sans wrung the ends of the sleeves in his hands, a hot exhale gusting from him when Red slowly lifted his hips to slide his shorts down and off.

Sans looked down at him, the prospect on being on display yet not being fucked was so utterly strange to him, when this was always what Red was up to. He felt Red’s warm hands on his body and carefully schooled his expression when Red looked to his face, as though expecting to see a blushing virgin staring back at him.

“Aww, don’t worry, baby. I’ll be gentle with ya,” Red grinned with a wink. The joking made Sans feel a little better, but he still felt exposed in the middle of Edge’s room, where said skeleton could walk in at any time-

He sat with his legs sprawled out as Red worked, tugging the end of the bright crimson ribbon from the spool in his hands. Sans gave him a furtive glance here and there, inspecting the length of the ribbon when Red finally cut it, then singed the edges with his magic to make sure that they didn’t fray.

Sans readied himself when Red situated between his legs, gathering Edge’s sweater away from his pelvis so that Red could have easy access. That thought probed at raunchier thoughts in Sans’ head, now less ignorant about lacing, and Red continued to grin almost to himself as he handled him, the ends of the ribbon in hand.

Inhaling a sharp breath, Sans felt the satin tickle against his pubic symphysis as the fabric slinked across his bones. For all the world, Red knew he was sensitive and was probably doing this on purpose. He could just do it in one go, but Red loved to tease him, to turn the situation around on him and make him beg for it.

To hell with him, he wasn’t going to do it this time. Sans huffed a breath but otherwise just watched, half-hiding behind the mulberry cashmere pullover when Red looked up to gauge his expression. Sans schooled himself to stick out his tongue, nearly swallowing a grunt in the process when the tip of the satin ribbon was introduced into his sacrum.

He bunched the fabric tightly in his hands, fingers flexing as he held on, still not expecting it, but his mind briefly guttered out with a lewd groan that was forced out of him beyond his control. Embarrassed for the noise, Sans pulled the sweater closer to his mouth to muffle himself, already feeling the hot throb of magic collecting at the base of his spine.

Red hummed idly to himself, crimson high on his cheekbones as he thumbed over Sans’ iliac crest, pushing warmth to the bone just to tease. Sans knew what to expect now at least, and Red hadn’t riled him up as much as the first time. But god, it was enough, just a taste of the pleasure that had wracked through him that Sans’ breaths began to shake with anticipation.

When Red only pushed the next hole through, Sans’ hips jerked, the pleasure shooting up his spine with a loud exclamation. In response, he inched his hips back and away from Red’s hands, scandalised little noises some form of protest. Red’s eyes shot up to survey Sans’ reaction, head hung back, ragged gasps and a clear view of his soul starting to drip behind his ribs. His legs trembled as his gasps filled the large room, intoxicated on pure sensory stimulation.

Carefully, Red twisted the end of the ribbon into the hole, using the pad of his thumb to coax it into the tight spot. Sans crooned, wringing the sweater in his grasp, a trembling hand coming down to either explore or to stop Red. Red gave him a moment to recover but kept the ribbon in place as Sans panted and curled his toes, his reactions involuntary. Red could feel the pleasure echo in his own pelvis, hot and yearning.

“Fuck you,” Sans mumbled a little incoherently, almost slurring as he nodded his head forward, flushed and breathless. “That… that was too fast-”

“Pff, I only capped two,” Red said innocently, still grinning all the same.

He nudged for Sans to get up, who attempted to with little complaint. His legs were still shaky like a newborn colt, the ribbons trailing and twisting in his sacrum when he moved. Red felt Sans’ lewd sounds lock in his skull, a whimper on the cusp of breaking into a moan.

God, he wanted him.

He loved it when Sans was tormented like this. So tender. So fragile - enough to break, and he’d break sweetly. A little roughly, Red guided Sans’ hips once the smaller skeleton was on his hands and knees. A tremor went through him, the oversized sweater caressing his swiftly warming bones and filling Sans’ head with Edge’s scent.

Immediately, thoughts of Edge came racing into his mind and Sans’ fingertips idly scratched at the carpet. He agonised with the way the ribbon tails moved, like Red wasn’t even bothering to cinch them up. He was just left there on his hands and knees, waiting for Red to stop staring at his tailbone like a goddamn creep.

“By the way,” Red said conversationally as he picked up one tail. He started to very slowly pull it, the smooth surface rubbing against Sans’ inner bone with such a sweet ache that Sans lifted his toes off the floor with a hushed and watery gasp. “It’s prob’ly best if ya don’t cum. Y’know. Cashmere. Pretty expensive stuff. That’n the boss’ll be upset with ya.”

Sans gulped haggardly. “Su.. such an asshole,” he whimpered, just trying not to let his hips buck with the pull of the ribbon. Sans attempted to flex into the carpet again, anything to distract his hands from delving under him to rub the ache at his pubic symphysis, concentrating on levelling his breathing and to absolutely _not_ get off. No matter how much it _was_ getting him off.

He couldn’t help the scandalised noise that left him when Red tugged on the other side of the ribbon, cinching it up so the flat side was snug against his sacral plain. Sans huffed, his spine and entire body jolting as a thrill shocked his system when Red suddenly yanked back on the two ends.

Sans didn’t realise it until after it had happened, his forearms wrapped over his head and his upper body collapsed. His legs trembled, god, _all_ of him shook so goddamn much. He panted, his breaths hot and ghosting back at him from the carpet. The sweater pooled just past his ribs, exposing him to Red’s fond grin as the ribbons were slackened.

“Hey. You good?”

Red’s gravelly purr showered over him and Sans couldn’t help but shiver again, nonsensical little noises passing his teeth as he slowly recovered. His limbs felt like gelatin, his hips hardwired to push and pull against the ribbon. Sans breathed out a shuddering breath, his voice not his own when he whimpered a soft, _“Hnnn…_ y-yeah.”

The grin at Red’s mouth tugged a little, fondly surveying Sans’ exposed tailbone. “Yeah, you are.”

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that Red would use that against him, when it was all Sans could do not to react to it. He restrained himself, a wet sounding gasp escaping despite Sans’ efforts. He clawed mercilessly at the carpet as a series of little movements travelled down the ribbon tails; no doubt Red was weaving them into something. Sans’ voice felt hoarse, restraining groans that shook his ribs, the sweater caressing his hot and sweaty bones when he moved, as though trying to escape.

Carefully, Red pulled him back, mercifully not by the ribbons. He grasped at Sans’ hips, holding him up and putting one end in his mouth to hold while he wove the other end into a bow with his free hand. He took great strides not to jerk too suddenly, every movement already riling Sans up past the point where he’d be a coherent person. His plan would be to ultimately get Sans’ shorts back on him. Maybe he should’ve left them down by his knees.

But Sans made for a pretty picture this way. Using his best judgement, Red tied a bow, not too tightly, against the back of Sans’ tailbone, snug enough to stay put but not enough that every movement shifted inside of the foramina. Red was getting anticipatory swells of excitement when Sans hummed and huffed when the ribbon moved, just tight enough to drive him mad if Sans didn’t move in just the right way.

Red gave him a moment to recover, idly tracing the line of his scapulae. He felt the quakes die down, only small jolts and quiet whimpers leaving Sans as he attempted to get up. He made it as far as bringing his arms up to sit, looking over his shoulder at Red with such a debauched and betrayed expression.

Red held up two wriggling fingers. “S’was just two, babe.”

Sans decided to ignore that, carefully pivoting his body to reach for his shorts. It took a moment, every movement small, precise and measured, not wanting to disturb the ribbon woven through him. Sans hissed when the waist of his shorts pulled up and rubbed against the sensitive bone, an objection trapped in his false throat.

He wouldn’t give Red the satisfaction of prolonging his reactions, though. Where Sans felt hot, a liquid chill shot through his system when he heard the audible sound of the front door opening and closing downstairs.

A cascade of fear washed over him, his eye lights shrinking to pinpricks as Sans looked to Red for answers. He saw the nonplussed way Red eyed the floor, as though to say ‘huh, already?’

Arousal forgotten for the moment, Sans swallowed thickly. He didn’t think this through. He definitely had erred and let Red convince him into doing this, where he could desert him and leave him alone in Edge’s room to be found out. What if Edge didn’t really want him--or maybe, what if he had read things wrong, and-

“Hey, hey, hey-” Red’s voice cut into Sans’ thoughts so abruptly that Sans hadn’t realised that he’d begun to shake. “Easy, darlin’. No need t’be so skittish. He ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

God, if Sans could believe him. How many times had Red turned situations around on him, though? Sorry if he felt a little gun-shy, hell, even _terrified_ when he heard Edge’s footsteps on the stairs.

He’d fucked up. He fucked up telling Red he had feelings for his brother. He’d fucked up hinting towards something more intimate, when Sans was just so pent up that he couldn’t handle it anymore. He inhaled a sharp breath, realising that he’d been holding it the entire time, his eyes fixed on the door.

Red slipped beside him, an unnecessary but welcome anchor to the world Sans had lost his grip on. He soothed his counterpart, rough hands smoothing over his back, his spine, up to his neck. Red hung his arm around him, pulling Sans close with such a grounding assuredness that it made Sans confused as to what his intentions really were.

Sans’ eyes widened when Edge’s shadow fell over the door, blocking the light outside. He was frozen in place. Red could feel a tremor go through Sans’ body, ready to teleport at a moment’s notice.

“Lemme handle this,” Red murmured covertly when the door handle began to turn, and Sans tensed up as though he was going to flee.

The light that hit them was a mix of crimson and yellow from the hall - mainly that Edge had likely been suspicious over why his bedroom door was no longer locked, so he’d sprung an attack just in case.

“What hap-” Suddenly, Edge’s demanding voice stopped like a brick dropping to the floor. The silence that followed was deafening.

His hard expression shifted minutely, of what Sans could see, and oh god, he really _was_ pissed. Sans could just feel the tension in the air, thick and heavy like before a storm. He swallowed, the feeling stuck in his false throat as he averted his eyes.

Red was a constant presence beside him, thank god. Sans continued to vacillate between trusting him and wanting to throw him under the bus, but it wavered in Edge’s presence. Sans felt his soul swell with the overwhelming urge to explain himself, but he knew it’d feel too cheap. Too much like an excuse when really, that’s all that it was. A cheap trick Red had helped him with to make him seem appealing to Edge. It wasn’t fair to him.

That thought strangled him and his body went rigid beside Red’s, who held him like some treasured prize, just displaying him and leaning against him. His arm had wrapped around Sans’ shoulder and carefully stroked at the clavicle under Edge’s sweater. Sans snuck his hand up to hold it so the sweet friction would stop. He really didn’t feel like it was appropriate right now. Not when Edge looked shell-shocked by their intrusion.

God, he had to get out of this sweater. He had to get out of this room, he-

He was stuck. Sans could only hold onto Red’s hand, his arm, keeping him close like he’d protect him from his own mistakes. Fuck knew he couldn’t talk his way out of this. In Edge’s clothes. In his room without permission. A length of ribbon so red it mimicked the blood-red bone construct that still hung in Edge’s grip, aching in his sacrum.

Dryly, Sans fought to swallow his nerves. Red hummed, an amused little noise as he nuzzled Sans’ neck, a rough little purr as he did so.

“Me n’Sansy were cold. Y’don’t mind us raidin’ yer closet, do ya, boss?” Red pulled Sans closer as a flush of cyan flooded Sans’ cheekbones, all but thunderstruck from the admission.

He wanted to say something, anything. ‘Sorry’ came to mind. ‘Didn’t mean for you to find out like this’. ‘Sorry for ruining your shirt’. All self-deprecating, and Red probably knew it. Sans tried to speak again, his voice tight and achy.

“Uh,” he tried, taking a furtive glance Edge’s way. He saw the gears working in the taller skeleton’s head and then abruptly shot his eyes to the carpet again. “It’s cool if you want us to change, sorry-”

In the three seconds it took for Sans to lay his eyes on Edge, it was enough for his resolve to crumble. It didn’t help at all when Edge dispelled the bone attack, having surveyed that the threat was non-existent. Well, as non-existent as it was solely contained within his older brother, grinning at him as though he didn’t have some wild scheme to fuck with the two of them.

Edge had been staring at him with precious little guard between them, and it made Sans’ magic diffuse low in his pelvis. He knew they were in trouble, but still his crooked little soul wanted for once in his life, to cut him some slack.

“Outside,” Edge snapped as he maintained eye contact with Red. “If you have a moment.” The taller skeleton’s voice was lighter, all mock courtesy, but it wasn’t a request. Sans could feel it reverberate in his bones, travelling through his marrow like the slickest of burning poison. It didn’t affect his desire for Edge, but it certainly made him warier.

His grounding point deserted him and Sans stood in the room alone, clutching at the sleeves that hung over his hands. A creeping panic settled into his soul as he heard hushed quips and derisive scoffs from the other side of the door, though it was just inaudible enough not to overhear. Sans was rooted in place, too afraid to run, to teleport, to make things worse. Maybe Red would vouch for him.

Maybe Red… would save him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 out of 2 parts because I didn't want this to be a oneshot that's just 16k and yeet it into the interwebs...
> 
> Inspiration is enneadodeca's kustard art where [they dress in Edge's oversized sweaters](https://twitter.com/enneadodeca/status/1142691064874242048?s=20) (sfw pic but nsfw twitter) and also where [Red tugs a little too much on Sans' ribbons](https://twitter.com/enneadodeca/status/1154542268948320257?s=21) (nsfw-ish..? suggestive, at least)....
> 
> Next part will involve.... resolved sexual tension......... 👀


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red is helpful. Feelings are reciprocated. Presents are unwrapped. Sans gets what he's been aching for.

Edge’s brother was an idiot.

It wasn’t often that Edge thought this way, but with the way Red had been acting lately, this had been the last straw. He hauled Red out of the room, not caring that the fistful of his favourite sweater would be ruined with how it bunched and stretched. Red teetered as he was bodily pushed against the wall, Edge’s eyes livid and his body language screaming.

“What. Have you done.”

Red gave him a smug grin, like someone who was about to have his cake and eat it too. His eyes narrowed in turn, scoffing and giving Edge a penetrating look.

“Funny how y’think this’s _my_ fault,” he said placidly and with no hint of warning. “Funny how this happened at all, actually.”

Edge gritted his teeth in a way that told Red he was more than annoyed; he was enraged. He wouldn’t admit it, never, especially since he’d opened up about having a thing of his own for Sans. Red found the whole blind ‘mutual pining’ idiots trope rather hilarious. At least, he’d find it even more hilarious if Edge didn’t snap at him every time Red tried to hint at getting them together. He had always wanted to indulge in more frisky activities with the two of them together.

Edge, however, was worried. He cared for Sans deeply and on a more personal level than pure visceral infatuation. He was concerned that Red had coerced him into doing this. It had to be that, when Sans could barely make eye contact for more than a couple seconds at a time. He’d looked spooked. He’d looked uncertain. Sans even looked like he wanted to make a run for it.

And Edge blamed his brother, pushing him against the wall until his spine scraped against it. Red’s eyes sharpened with the bit of pain and he laughed in his face.

“Dude, y’think _I_ did this?” Red smiled almost sweetly. “Joke’s on you, boss. It’s all his idea.”

Edge’s eyes searched Red’s, the silence palpable as he allowed Red to slide down the wall a little. A rush of want went through him, tangled and hungry. He couldn’t tell if Red was fucking with him or not this time; the guy had made it his way of life to screw with his head on more than one occasion. What was one more to the pile?

His soul ached. He _wanted_ Sans.

No, he couldn’t fall for it. Even though it hurt, Edge shoved his feelings aside. “Nice try.”

Red’s grin dropped a little. “Are you fuckin’ serious? You clamour all this time `bout wantin’ this guy and you just leave `im hangin’ in there?”

Edge took that like a suckerpunch, dumbstruck all at once.

“You’re the idiot, I take it back,” Red continued, his voice hissing a little so that he’d save Sans the embarrassment if he happened to be eavesdropping on their little conversation. “We spend the past hour `er so wrappin’ a present up for ya and you’re just gonna throw it in his face.”

More suckerpunches, because Red held nothing back and sometimes Edge just needed it hammered into his thick skull. Edge appeared to be reeling.

“You need to fuckin’ relax. The dude wants to fuck ya.”

Poleaxed, it took a few moments for Edge to unhand his brother, letting his feet drop to the floor instead of holding up propped against the wall. He then looked at the door, the welling ache filling his soul when he thought about it, Sans wanting him, _craving_ him, just as Edge had-

“He’s gonna get cold feet if y’don-”

Edge pushed Red’s skull away, cutting him off as he made for the door. Red made an interested noise despite the gesture and went to follow Edge inside, instead forced out of the way again.

“You’ve helped enough,” Edge snapped, his tone quiet with warning. He closed the door on Red’s protests, knowing it wouldn’t keep him out. Red could obviously teleport inside, but hopefully he’d get the jist that Edge needed a moment. A _quiet_ moment with Sans.

Though Sans was smaller in a way, he looked engulfed by the sweater he’d chosen from his closet. It hid all his natural curves, the flare of his ribs and shoulders, even his fingers. Sans appeared to be apologetic, nervous and flustered. It was a good look on him. Or it would’ve been - had Edge not already known that Sans was quickly becoming a flight risk.

No doubt Red had helped. This had his brother’s ideas written all over it. Edge approached Sans, who was wringing his sleeves, quite literally frozen to the spot. His eye lights had guttered out, nervous sweat trickling down his spine.

“I’m sorry,” Edge started. He saw the flicker of light return to Sans’ eye sockets, then a brief glance his way before Sans’ eyes darted to the carpet again. Edge moved to his writing desk, idly shuffling some papers that really didn’t need playing with. He just needed to do something with his hands, before they sought something else to play with. “This is unfair to you.”

Sans swallowed but did nothing; he didn’t even breathe a word. For all his quips and easy jokes, the smaller skeleton seemed oddly ill at ease. Uncomfortable with the situation, no doubt. Red should’ve known better. Not everyone was open to what they shared.

But Sans wasn’t going anywhere. He remained fixed on the spot, staring at nowhere but his feet.

“I apologise for my brother’s rude behaviour. It’s most unbecoming, even for him. You may leave.” Though Edge wanted Sans to stay, he didn’t want to keep Sans against his will. His soul pinched when he saw Sans stir, but Edge continued to shift a few papers around aimlessly, trying to distract himself. “If-”

Sans shifted on his feet, crossing his arms in front of him as though trying to take up as little space as possible.

“If I’d known telling him that I had feelings for you would lead to this, I would’ve kept my mouth shut,” Edge decided to admit, keeping his tone quiet and measured, no matter how he regretted it at that moment. His false throat felt tight for some reason.

Sans twisted his fingers into the fabric of the sweater, warm and lush. It smelled like Edge. Edge, who had confessed to sharing his feelings, who had definitely got the wrong impression. Who was standing in front of him, sharply dressed and fresh home from work, probably from a long day. Maybe Red didn’t save him, but maybe this worked out for the better.

In Edge’s sweater, alone with him in his room, Sans inhaled a low breath for what felt like years, and exhaled a humourless laugh. Edge reciprocated?? Did he really say that? Meant it? Sans felt it twinge in his soul, the flood of warmth echoing a yearning that he’d felt up until a few moments ago.

He thumbed the bottom hem of the shirt, careful not to pull it too taut to disturb the lacing. He didn’t feel the urge to leave anymore. He wanted to hear more, be told more, how he was wanted, and-

God, Sans felt like a fool. He gritted his teeth when he felt Edge’s eyes on him and Sans looked back, feeling his face burn. He needed to be bolder, otherwise Edge would just think he was going along with whatever he thought Red was scheming. Sure, Red had set things into motion, but ultimately it was Sans who was in control. He could put the brakes on and Red would let him and he’d step off.

“Uh-” Good choice of first words there, Sans, he thought admonishingly. Edge sent him a questioning look, no longer fumbling through papers. It was a horribly transparent attempt to look unhurt and hopeless, in hindsight.

Heedless, his feet started to move. Sans carefully walked over, not slowly because he was afraid, but he didn’t want to startle Edge. He crept up and leaned on the desk with one hand, repressing a shiver when he spoke, very quietly;

“No.”

Edge sent him a penetrating look, one Sans felt himself cower under, but he stood his ground. He wasn’t sure if the look Edge was sending him was out of desire or his need to stay in control of the situation, where it was safe.

Sans’ grin was shaky, but he continued, bolder still. “Actually, I wanted to be here.” It was an abrupt end to the statement, but Sans managed it. Hooray for him. His grin got a little better when he saw the tentative hope flash in Edge’s eyes. It fed him with the need to reaffirm whatever suspicions the taller monster had. “He helped, but… I wasn’t in the dark. He helped me. I knew what he intended to do from the start.”

Sans wasn’t sure how to figure out Edge’s expression. It looked like something between shell-shock and mindblown incredulity. He thought it was kind of hilarious, all things considered, and Sans admittedly felt a little empowered for making Edge feel that way. He couldn’t help the way his cheeks burned with the admission that, _yes,_ he was interested too.

Too long that Edge stared at him, all restrained want hidden in his eyes. Sans felt it when Edge leaned in, just a bare fraction of an inch, and his body yearned for it. He moved forward, heedless of the ribbon throbbing in his sacrum, careful not to be so abrupt. Edge’s mouth neared his own and Sans pushed himself on his tiptoes to reach him, taking Edge’s tie in hand to keep them at the same level.

His soul jittered with the restrained way Edge settled his hands on his shoulders, warm and soothing. Sans couldn’t help but make a noise, startled, when Edge’s hands flexed between his scapulae, but it sent a heat directly to the base of his spine so fast that Sans thought that maybe his magic hadn’t been disrupted by the lacing after all.

Tentative nerves were carefully soothed away as Edge kissed him, softer than Sans would’ve thought and possessive like a fever. Sans hadn’t ever kissed someone like this before, shielded want melding into a quick desperation that left him breathless for more. He tasted Edge for a moment, a hot trickle of heat building under his ribs when Edge pushed forward, hungrier than he.

Of course, that would be the time when Red piped up from his side of the door. Sans’ soul jolted in his chest when he heard his counterpart’s tease; “You guys done bein’ gay in there? Can I come in? Like, is this happenin’ or what?”

Edge parted and breathed a sigh close to Sans’ face, but it was without irritation. At the very least, Edge collected himself enough to really look at Sans, staring at his mouth with his eyes blown and face flushed.

He probably looked desperate, but Sans didn’t care. Red didn’t waste any time in joining them, his grin a little self-satisfied as he pushed the door open, seeing Sans all but clinging to Edge, who sent him a warning glare. Red strolled to Sans’ side, slipping his hand between their bodies as if it were perfectly natural.

“Look at you lovebirds,” he crooned teasingly. Sans rolled his eyes and turned his head to face Red, grabbing him by the jaw to roughly kiss him. It was a starkly different kind of affection, one that made the marrow in his bones swell with heat. “Looks like someone got out the big guns.”

Sans’ grin was wry but he didn’t shove at Red’s hand delving between them, resting against his pubic symphysis. Apparently remembering the lacing, Red pivoted his hand in the space and carefully ran a digit over the ribbon. Sans felt the pressure, unable to stop the weighted gasp that left him when it throbbed.

It seemed to get Edge’s interest at least. Red gave him a sneaky wink from over Sans’ shoulder, inching up the red sweater to expose Sans’ ribs, warm porcelain heaving as he recovered from the tease. Sans felt himself go hot when Edge’s eyes fixed on him, to the flicker of light under his ribs, then to the bright scarlet ribbon bisecting his sacrum.

“This interestin’ enough for ya, boss?” Red asked smugly, grinning as he pressed his teeth against Sans’ neck. “He sung so sweetly when I helped `im out, too.”

Edge’s breathing sharpened and Sans felt it echo in the diffuse magic in his pelvis, unfocused and thick. His ribs felt tight like he needed Edge’s hands on him, so Sans practised more of that random boldness, taking Edge’s hand to lay over his chest.

Red’s finger stayed against the ribbon in his sacrum, making Sans’ legs jittery and unsure. He swallowed, the magic in his joints burning when he murmured quietly; “Not exactly the most comfortable of positions, guys.”

Red snickered and rubbed his face against Sans’, giving his younger brother a knowing brow waggle, something feral and delighted in his eyes. “Good thing we know some better ones, then. Whaddaya say, boss? Wanna see if giftmas cums early?”

It didn’t take long for them to move to the bed. It was the only real prime location for them all and with Sans hung between them, it was anything but uncomfortable. Red had admittedly tried to situate Sans in his lap, disturbing the lacing to the point where Sans’ surprised shout was louder than he’d ever heard him before. Sans opted instead to sink lower so his head was in Red’s lap, hips gingerly raised as Edge sat in front of him.

God, Edge also looked enamoured. Sans flushed, feeling hot, anxious and needy all at once. He knew Edge was a kinky one, but he’d kept out of his and Red’s sex life for the most part. He really had no idea what awaited him as Edge situated Sans’ rear into his lap, getting as close as possible so he could see every flicker of his soul, every micro-expression on his face.

Sans’ nerves jolted when Edge moved him to his liking, his magic settling and scattering excitedly. His breathing picked up when Edge’s hands were on him, touching every bone, feeling his ribs enough to make him tremble. Warmth seeped from under his ribs and Sans inhaled deeply when Edge’s reach went further down, caressing the flares of his hips to make Sans’ knees bend and his feet cinch tighter around Edge’s waist.

“Maybe you should guess what’s in the box,” Red said helpfully, grinning all the while Sans heaved. It caught him off guard and Sans suddenly laughed, tightening his hands’ grip on Red’s thighs with anticipation. “Seems only fair. Though I don’t think y’should shake it.”

Sans gave Red a half-hearted elbow, moving his head so it also served as sweet revenge. Red was very obviously aroused and his cock had been pressed against the back of Sans’ neck ever since they’d gotten into this position.

“You know, it’s rude to point,” Sans murmured throatily, trying not to sound as affected by everything.

Red laughed behind him, idly stroking his temple. “It’s just that hard for ya, baby.” With an eye roll, Sans grinned to himself, settling his gaze in front of him when Edge moved.

Sans’ thoughts scattered when Edge’s hands dipped below his waistband, easing it down but he was none too careful about disturbing the ribbon at the back. In fact, he went slower, brushing the waistband against the back of his tailbone. Sans inhaled sharply, his hips thrusting up as he held onto Red’s thighs, twisting his head to the side.

_“Ah-!”_

Sans halted any other noises when Edge stopped, deadpanned as he stared him down. Sans could feel Red’s barely restrained chuckles, his wheezing little laughs. He felt his face burn again and nodded carefully when he saw Edge’s enquiring look. His hands were still, gripping onto Red’s legs when Sans carefully raised his hips a little more, to be helpful.

Sans swallowed the startled cry stuck in his false throat when Edge pulled his legs up and over him, his shorts resting under his knees. Face scalding, Sans peeked at Edge’s intense gaze, surveying the brightly coloured ribbon in his tailbone.

It likely wasn’t something Edge had expected. Sans froze, his back aching at the angle, his ribs heaving from being manhandled. Edge pushed his legs up more and Sans gasped when he felt a small tug against his sacrum.

He couldn’t watch Edge’s face. There was too much interest, a hungry need veiled in his eyes. The bone between the ribbon throbbed with need, sensitive and alight with arousal as Edge’s hands traced around the intrusions, making Sans pant raggedly.

“Well, then. Now I understand all the innuendo,” Edge murmured, his voice deep and throaty. Sans shivered as the words just barely drowned out his gasps, all in his head, contained in the space between the brothers.

Edge thoughtfully took one end of the bow in hand, slowly giving it a gentle pull, small enough for it to be only _just_ noticeable. Sans muffled an embarrassing noise and Red stroked his face, tender and sweet. His hands flexed when the ribbon tightened on one side, belatedly realising that Red had tied a knot to prevent the satin from slipping.

Something in his expression must’ve changed, since Red’s eyes sharpened, his grin tugging with lewd interest. Sans wrenched his face to the side, attempting to keep composure with Edge’s hands on him, ridding him of his shorts, carefully manoeuvring his legs so they hooked around Edge’s hips.

With care, Edge let the discarded piece of clothing slip over the side of the bed, immediately forgotten. Sans huffed when warm hands trailed down his shoulders, smoothing down his front, plucking at his exposed ribs. He tilted his head back to survey Red’s expression again, all smug and grinning at him.

Sans wasn’t sure how to proceed with more than one partner - not entirely. It was all very handsy and he felt sort of useless being suspended between them like this. His gaze shot down again when Edge’s hands cupped his hips, steadily kneading the bone like he needed to be worked over. Nonetheless appreciative, Sans groaned with the sensation.

“Should prob’ly mention that means he’s down to fuck, boss,” Red’s helpful addition pierced the silence, still stroking Sans’ rib cage. Sans’ laugh was shaky when he saw Edge’s eyes flicker deeper, hungrier. It felt good to be wanted. “In case it wasn’t clear.”

“Crystal,” Edge replied a little tersely, still moving his hands in aching strokes on Sans’ pelvis. Sans’ next sound was needy as they moved inward, bracing and stroking the twin holes of his ischiums. “Unlike someone, I want to savour this.”

Sans shuddered, that faint hint of praise igniting something within him so fast and so brightly that he had to hide his face again. The pleasure was a dull rolling ache, tugging at the lace in his sacrum and coaxing soft noises to leave his teeth.

Sans was anxious to be explored. To be savoured like something to be indulged in, something longed for. He felt another bloom of warmth in his soul, the slick trickle against his spine when Edge’s hands pressed into the sensitive bone with deep and achy strides.

It was enough to force out a shaky “Fuck” from Sans, hasty and breathless. He cinched his hold on Red, testing the fabric on his legs as his hips twitched impatiently.

Seemingly satisfied, Edge breathed a deep sigh, giving the ribbon another tug. This time it was longer, more insistent, and with it came a startled yelp from Sans, who immediately covered his mouth so he didn’t get louder.

It was only two holes. Two holes that had ribbon bunched up between them and that Red had filled completely, knotting it at the end so only one side could be pulled. When Edge started on the loose end, the satin slowly slipped and the bow began to unfurl, continuously flicking against his spine.

Edge was savouring this, like someone who would save the wrapping after enjoying the experience of receiving a gift. It was slow, meticulous, pulling the ribbon at an angle to hit as much as the sensitive inner bone of Sans’ sacrum. If Edge was taking his time, it was likely due to the fact that he’d want to save the ribbon for later. For later use, not because his movements made Sans’ legs tremble and the smaller skeleton had started to writhe in front of him.

San’s ribs ached as he tried to push himself over and into Edge’s arms, a silent yearning in his eyes. Frustrated, he couldn’t repress a deep moan as the all-encompassing pleasure built up, the small fluttering tugs sending him into a spiral of pleas.

He wiped at his face, embarrassed for the tears that had slipped past unnoticed. Sans lay half-gasping, half-verbalising every sensation as Edge smiled down at him, all satisfaction and veiled excitement. Sans realised vaguely that he appeared to be watching a little lower down, no doubt peering at his soul and how he was reacting to the stimulation.

Sans clutched hard at Red’s legs, his spine bending at an uncomfortable angle as the rest of the ribbon was pulled. It took a little more coaxing from Edge’s hands for the last twist to be wrenched free, but the relief and sudden flow of unburdened magic that crashed into his pelvis made Sans groan with relief.

Edge flitted a finger against the hot entrance of Sans’ newly conjured pussy, slick and wet. Sans made a nonsensical noise at the back of his throat, holding so tightly to Red that he was sure, somewhere in his pleasure-addled mind, that he’d need to be pried off later. Probably with a wrench or the jaws of life. A hysterical laugh escaped him when he cracked open an eye in time to see Edge savouring blue-slickened fingers, blood red tongue darting out to taste him.

Edge purred and Sans could feel it throb in his cunt, needing to be filled with him. He remained transfixed on Edge’s tongue, wondering how it’d feel and wanting to find out. “Just what I’ve always wanted.”

“Holy shit,” Sans murmured hoarsely, his soul clenching with another warm burst, this time throbbing slowly. It was something to have that reaffirmation, to be longed for all this time and he just had to sort through the mess he called emotions to find out. Fuck, he ached. Sans looked up, dazed, when Red tilted his head back to peer into his eyes. “Hey.”

“Heya, y’still with us?” Red at least seemed amused. Sans noted the way Red’s breathing had deepened, hastening the longer he watched. Sans’ eyes fluttered when Red stroked his temple with the pad of his thumb, gentle circles echoing a tenderness inside of his soul.

Nodding slightly, Sans took another few calming breaths. Edge was giving him space to breathe, inspecting smooth bone with his scarred fingers like the silent permission allowed him to. He ran his hands between Sans’ legs, creating a ripple of pleasure that made Sans excited for more.

And all the while a nagging thought came to him of how odd it was to have Red so silent. Usually there was a lot more bullshit than this, since Red could never stay quiet for long. There was always some kind of dirty preamble. Maybe it was due to the fact that this was Edge’s time, Edge’s first sexual contact with Sans. Normally that wouldn’t necessarily stop Red, but maybe this was different. It also didn’t hurt that he had a front seat to all of Sans’ expressions as his brother picked him apart piece by piece, just to see how he ticked.

Edge leaned in low, his body hanging over Sans’ to steal a kiss. It was slow and tender, making Sans feel like a bruise that needed soothing, a breath he needed to catch. Sans felt Red tense behind him when he held on, arching his back to rub against his cock. When Edge’s tongue connected with his mouth, he parted his teeth to let him in, using Red’s legs to push himself forward to get even closer.

A flood of affection bloomed within Sans, curling his tongue to match Edge’s kisses, long and sweet. Every breath seemed too long, desperate gasps to taste Edge in a rolling ache inside of his rib cage. He hummed against him, feeling the firm brush of Edge’s knuckles against his clit, just barely grazing as Sans groaned into his mouth.

It was all too tender, he thought. Even Red had bowed to this slow grind, kneading his hips when Edge pulled him up, pushing Sans into Red’s lap with a firmness that made Sans’ hands shaky with anticipation. The presence of Red’s tongue against the spines of his vertebrae made Sans shudder, a trickling heat that bloomed into something more when Red’s hands found his hips.

He ground against him, Red’s cock prodding his tailbone. Sans huffed excitedly when he heard Red snarl at his neck, a bare prickle the only warning before he felt Red’s sharp teeth test bone. It was almost enough to flatline him, distracted by Edge’s all-encompassing kisses as he rubbed his clit, teasing more tangled and weighted gasps from him. Sans was being spoiled and he knew it.

There was a steep pleasure building thanks to the two stimulations, coaxing harsher groans from him the longer they kept it up. Sans attempted to move back away from the persistent rubbing between his legs, only for one of Red’s filthy groans to fill his head and his hands tightly squeeze his hips.

“Fuck yeah, honey, you gonna take us both?”

The realisation dropped into Sans’ brain like the force of a blow. Edge started again, moving him forward, to claim him from Red’s relentless slow grind. When Edge caught Red’s look from over Sans’ shoulder, he merely met it with something devious in his own expression. Sans was too overwhelmed, still trying to figure out gravity as he was manhandled closer.

“I want you to get on your hands and knees,” Edge said, voice husky and authoritative, “and suck my brother’s cock.”

A shudder went through Sans, spit welling in his mouth when he recalled Red’s taste. Tongue still yearning for more of Edge’s kisses, he pivoted his body to sneak a desperate one before Edge braced a hand against his spine, sturdy, strong and guiding. Sans shuddered again, his eyes moving back to Red who sat sprawled and obviously hard, grinning at him for all that it was his turn now.

Sans groaned lowly when he eased himself down onto a forearm, pulling one side of Red’s waistband to expose him to the room. The scent of him was something Sans preferred, locked away in his skull to fantasise whenever he wanted. He was exposed, ass in the air, facing Red with his head dipped low to take Red in hand, using a generous amount of spit to mouth the side of Red’s cock, leaking precum.

The groan that followed travelled down to the base of his pelvis when he slickened Red’s cock a little more to take the tip into his mouth, just as Edge wanted. He heard Edge’s breath sigh out long behind him, in his blind spot where he couldn’t see what Edge had in store for him. Sans shifted, his pussy neglected as he pulled himself up to swallow Red down as much as he could take. Red’s magic was hot in his mouth, filling him up. He felt the throb in his cunt, willful and needy as Red’s hand settled on his skull to hold him there.

He wanted to show Edge what he could do. He thought of Edge’s dick, something he’d fantasised about in lonely nights and afternoons alone. Sans thought about how he would taste, how big he was, if he could swallow him down - if he’d fit. Sans gripped the cock near the base and pushed his face down a little more, the tip flirting with the back of his conjured throat. He gave a thick and slow swallow, lapping at the precum on the way out again, his breathing hard.

Red’s breaths hitched when he did and the marrow-red magic brightened as Sans began to move his head, slowly, achingly, wanting to show how good he was. How he’d treat Edge, how he’d treat them both, be praised, and-

“Fuck, sweetheart-” Red murmured, his voice louder. The force of it shot down to Sans’ cunt, wet and ignored. He didn’t know what Edge had planned, but it wasn’t until he pulled off Red’s cock with a faint pop that he gasped, his throat raw and voice thick, that Edge started to tease him again.

Not even well-acquainted with Edge’s tongue and he knew the heat instantly. Sans kept his legs sprawled, ass in the air as the taller skeleton took his tailbone under the weight of his tongue, lapping and curling the wet hot magic around his coccyx. He pushed forward, taking Red further into his mouth as he felt Edge do the same, warm magic enveloping him, taking him as Sans took Red’s dick.

“Oh, fuck, he likes that,” Red groaned, his hand reaching down to cup Sans’ head again. He tilted his skull back, more filthy noises escaping Sans as Red’s cock slipped from his mouth.

He stared blearily ahead, his face flooding with heat when Edge’s hands pulled him back. The pleasure was a soft throb that had him wasted on every breath, every stroke of his tailbone. Sans whimpered, the tingling, sensitive pulses playing games with his head.

He swore again, quietly, the taste of Red in his mouth and the self-satisfied expression looking back at him from Red’s eyes. Red tilted his chin up, helping him to rise to all fours while Edge’s devilish tongue made Sans’ hips jerk and his voice catch.

“You _really like_ that, don’t ya, Sansy?” Red reaffirmed, and Sans’ face burned with his intense gaze. Red held his eyes, watching as the subtle shocks travelled through his body, making Sans a quivering mess. “God, y’should see `im.”

Sans could feel the slickness of his pussy when he moved, carefully allowing his hips to jerk forward, out of Edge’s mouth. Then the wet heat would envelop him again, rich and velvety, pushing him against Red’s chest. He tried with all his might to restrain the lewd noises, the stifled groans of appreciation, but they started to tumble out of his control.

Sans was now useless under Edge’s touch, his eyes bright and blown wide, gasping helplessly.

“Gonna cum, hun?” Red purred, taking his member in hand and giving it a few lazy strokes, still wet from Sans’ attempted blowjob. “Boss’s pretty good at gettin’ me off. An’ I can tell you’re gettin’ off plenty. How many times do ya wanna cum? Two?” The answer was a vivid shudder that Red could feel in his own body, lush with heat. “Three? Maybe six? Maybe you’ve already got off once. Maybe he’s just gonna coax them sweet noises outta you as you open up for him-”

Sans huffed loudly, on the verge of a coherent swear. Edge’s hands wrapped around his waist to hold him, as Sans couldn’t really keep steady anymore. He was too unfocused, Edge’s hot mouth sucking on sensitive bone, moving low, lower, lower still until his tongue found the slit of his pussy, fingers idly circling over his clit.

“Don’t you make a pretty picture,” Red continued lewdly, then pushed forward to capture a kiss, tasting himself on Sans’ tongue. Sans’ mouth was lax and confused, his brain too addled when Edge spread his lips and began to push his tongue inside of him. Every bone was tight, tension rising throughout his body like a fever. Red held him up, every kiss lighting Sans up like embers. “Y’gonna share for us?”

It was a lot of control to hand over in one afternoon, but Sans didn’t have the mind to care. He huffed again as Edge’s clever tongue worked him over, the rubbing against his clit soft circles that brought him closer and closer to release. His arms and legs were starting to lock up, shaky, a single swear and a slew of filthy gasps escaping Sans’ mouth when one of Edge’s fingers slid into him.

It wasn’t enough and yet it was, Edge’s finger long enough to push down against his g-spot, wetness coaxed from him so easily. Sans released a watery gasp, bunching his hands into fists at Red’s sides, his eyes glazed over with pleasure. He didn’t even care that Red was watching intently, witnessing every way that Sans was falling apart before them, surrendering.

He lowered his head, pressing against Red’s chest when another one of Edge’s fingers joined the first. It made a slick noise and he felt Edge’s breath on his pussy, his hot tongue lapping up the wet coaxed from him. Sans whimpered like he was suddenly drawing in fire, a broken moan of Red and Edge’s name shuddered between them.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Red rumbled lowly, moving so he could see Sans’ face again. “You should jus’ see yerself… you make a pretty picture like this, didn’t you know? All fuck-drunk and moanin’.” Sans saw a glint of sharp teeth before he lowered his head again, his face flushed. “Bet the boss’d love t’see ya… Maybe we should turn ya around a give `im a show, mm?”

Edge’s third finger fleeted with the entrance to his cunt and Sans felt the words travel down his spine to land in Edge’s mouth. He felt the quiver of excitement and the way strong hands moved to hold onto his hips, sturdy and gentle at the same time. The hand that had been fingering him was warm and slick, bracing him.

Sans remained quiet, still trying to get second wind while Red continued, flashing a grin over to his brother with a devilish laugh. Red pulled him closer, arms wrapping around his middle as he kissed Sans’ throat, nipping at one or two vertebrae. Sans couldn’t help the whimper he choked on, his noises starting to slip out of his control.

He felt empty. He’d been too close to orgasm, just close enough that his cunt was throbbing and slowly winding down. He found that he couldn’t meet Edge’s eyes when Red turned him around, leaving him exposed and hot between them.

Then, suddenly, Red gave him a shove. It had taken him completely off guard. He huffed, bracing himself against Edge’s chest, seeing the veiled look in Edge’s eyes of his own surprise. Red moved behind him with no complaints, situating himself under Sans’ bent knees.

Sans only knew what Red’s plan was then when he felt Red’s breath on his pussy. He grabbed a fistful of Edge’s chemise in preparation, eyes locked with him as he shuddered out a breath, Red’s fingers parting the lips of his pussy to keep him open. His face burned and he knelt a little awkwardly, half in Edge’s lap when he felt Red’s tongue slip up into his cunt, wrenching a harsh grunt from him.

Something feral in Edge’s eyes shone, too keen on seeing Sans up close, writhing and grasping at him as he tried to keep moans and harsh gasps at bay.

Red took his time to pick him apart, pulling small noises from Sans as he tried to hop away from Red’s reach. Red kept a hold on one of his femurs, and signalled Edge with his other to keep going. He hummed against Sans’ clit and Sans tore his gaze away from Edge’s intense look, half ashamed, half turned on.

For all he knew Edge was interested in him, Sans hadn’t yet seen him indulge in getting himself off. He seemed to be enamoured in him, feeding off the visceral need to see Sans fully wrecked before attending to himself. He must’ve been uncomfortable, Sans hazily thought, his hands sliding down Edge’s pressed shirt and to the buckle of his belt.

There was the definite heat of magic, the restless stirring of Edge’s arousal. Edge’s hands caressed his sides, keeping him propped in his lap as Sans twisted his face away, unable to keep the groan from slipping out of him when Red introduced him to two fingers. Though he had worse aim than Edge, it didn’t take long for Red to curl his fingers inwards, searching for his g-spot. Sans huffed against Edge’s shoulder, it apparently too much for him to continue spectating when Sans was clinging to him, desperate.

Edge’s hands smoothed up past his hips, dragging the sweater up on its way, lighting his bared bones with sensitivity and longing. Sans’ breaths heaved when the sides slipped down again and Edge took his face in each hand, feeding him a hungry kiss. Sans moaned when he tasted himself in Edge’s mouth, the slickness of his teeth sending a wave of heat down his body and wrapping around his soul.

Sans rocked his body against him, holding onto his wrist as he opened up for Edge to kiss as deeply as he wanted to. Red growled under him, the vibrations making Sans’ breath catch when Edge was trying to steal it at the same time.

It was a lot. So much that Sans had little control but to grab at Edge’s shoulder with his free hand, grinding against Red’s mouth. He didn’t even realise that he’d clenched his eyes tight, riding out the pleasure and bliss of Red’s tongue on him, his curled fingers easing him open and softening him. He forced himself to stop any noises, the shuddering of his body easing when Red’s fingers went slower, sensually. He could hear it and it made Sans’ face burn.

He tried again to reach for Edge’s belt when Red’s mouth displaced, but his fingers kept going. A different kind of pressure signalled in Sans’ brain, locking him in place as his body burned with the desire to come. His breaths were quiet but ragged, his voice locked away in the corner of his brain that was still screaming in blessed agony that _this was really happening, oh fuck, oh fuck-_

“See that?” Red said almost conversationally, the only thing betraying him was the roughness in his voice. “He’s so close. He’s so close but he’s not gonna give up one iota. He’s gonna keep his sweet little noises all to himself until we pry `em outta him, the selfish bastard.” Sans’ cunt squeezed around Red’s fingers, illustrating Red’s point. Sans hated how predictable it was, but when Red explained it, Edge’s breathing got uneven, more than before.

He shuddered a breath, wrenching his face to the side so he could push himself off Edge’s chest, every gasp on the cusp of breaking into a betraying, throaty moan. He felt the hardness in Edge’s pants and tried again, pulling at the buckle with shaky hands and getting him nowhere. Edge seemed amused; Sans was rewarded with a bare chuckle for his efforts and its sound rang in his head, intoxicating.

Red made an interested noise low in his throat. “Oh, that desperate for his cock, eh?” Red moved up and pivoted his hand to more easily thrust up into Sans, flirting with the fourth finger.

That’s when Sans moaned brokenly into Edge’s mouth, a gush of come slickening Red’s fingers. Red purred hungrily against the back of his nape, flexing his fingers and stroking Sans on the inside to make him groan freely. It unlocked Sans’ throat as the sensitivity built up, rolling wave after wave of steep pleasure so much that he felt the need to escape.

Sans slung an arm around Edge’s neck, a broken swear between them as Edge folded and Red laughed. “Cum to think about it, my poor bro’s been edged this whole time,” he said in mock disappointment, soft tuts as he clicked his tongue and stroked down the spines in Sans’ vertebrae. “If we’re gonna spoil ya, you should prob’ly whip out his dick.”

Sans looked over his shoulder, his face obviously flushed for a whole new reason. He made a small noise of protest, then swallowed thickly, not really knowing what to say to that.

“Aww, honey,” Red said soothingly, pressed up against Sans’ back. He felt the tremor go through Sans’ body. “Y’want me to lower ya onto his dick?”

That unlocked Sans’ throat. A little hysterically, he laughed. “I w.. want you to stop running your goddamn mouth.”

Red leered a little and snuck his hand between them to find the bead of Sans’ clit, still sensitive from being under his tongue. “Didn’t hear any complaints before.”

Sans exhaled hotly when his body re-tensed, his face continuing to burn when he caught the look in Edge’s eyes. He held them for a moment, the penetrating glare over his shoulder just smouldering. It all still felt like a lot. Regardless, he snuck his own hand down, brushing against Edge’s hand to help him with the accursed buckle and loop. It was warm, almost buzzing under his hand. He took in another calming breath, feeling along Edge’s length.

God, it felt big. Would he even fit? Red had prepped him a lot, but its girth made him more than a little nervous. He thought about Red’s offer to lower him down onto Edge’s cock and felt the hungry clench of his pussy, achy and deep.

Edge’s sigh cut into his thoughts like a knife, bringing his hand to close around his cock. Having been ignored, there was a bead of precum welling at its tip and when Sans glanced down, the world went quiet for a moment. He instantly wanted to taste him, every lewd fantasy, every perverted little desire in his soul springing to attention.

Red’s cock pressed against his hip as he pushed Sans forward, locking him between them. A thrill went through Sans’ soul at the promise of everything empty in him being filled again. He hitched himself up again to make room for Edge’s hands, bracing himself, sliding between his folds, likely streaking him with his precum and getting coated with Sans’ come too-

Sans made an involuntary little noise when the tip of Edge’s dick grazed against his clit, skirting across his entrance enough to make him throb like he hadn’t gotten off already. Red growled low by his neck, every sensation alive and true as anything he could ever dream of.

It felt like a lot of buildup for what it was. Edge savoured him as promised, giving himself a few more generous strokes. Red was oddly quiet, but Sans just knew his eyes were blazing with interest, too excited to keep that way for long. He could feel Red’s sharp phalanges dig into his hips, making them ache like a bruise, when every part of Sans’ body felt tender and spun tight.

“Relax.”

Relax, he says. Sans shakily nodded, ignoring the odd way Edge’s voice was roughed out. He supposed he hadn’t done his best to be entertaining, but being shared between the two brothers made him oversensitive and feel out of control.

Edge lined the tip of his dick with Sans’ pussy, using his slickness to slip inside. His teeth were clenched, magic burning between his joints when Sans’ walls reflexively squeezed around him. The bud of pressure lingered until Edge drew in a sharper breath, holding him like any upward thrust would break him. Edge’s legs were trembling from restraint until Sans swallowed thickly, giving an experimental roll of his hips.

It was only a little bit, but _oh,_ how he stretched. Sans gave in to a visceral groan from the bottom of his soul, his joints flooding with magic so much it almost hurt to move. Red had a steady arm around him, his other hand at his front to slowly draw firm circles around Sans’ clit, to help ease the pain of Edge’s girth.

Maybe he needed to be worked over more, Sans thought blearily. He struggled to breathe, thick gasps tumbling over each other as Edge effortlessly pulled him up with one arm. It seemed like the position was off. Sans resituated himself with a hasty, low groan of protest, and Edge leaned forward to kiss him.

He tasted as good as before, if not better, when the tip of Edge’s cock lined up with his cunt again, this time using Red’s help. Sans braced himself for the sudden glide, but it never happened. It was just a rolling sweet ache, wetness coaxed from him like it was all the lube they’d need, and then Edge’s tongue was in his mouth. Vaguely, Sans recognised the tongue movements as those that Edge had used eating him out and it made him long for something more, something he’d been waiting forever for.

With one arm around Edge’s neck and with Red behind him, surveying the two like a perverted chaperone, Sans slung his other arm behind him, bringing Red into the fold. Now that he was propped between the two of them, there was a slight catch to Sans’ voice when he said, shakily; “What? No play by play now?”

“Naw, just makin’ sure you two lovebirds get to hold each others’ faces an’ gaze longingly into your eyes before Boss pounds you into the mattress,” Red replied deviously. He savoured it when he saw his words affect Sans, who all but groaned at the promise of movement.

Edge grabbed Red’s sweater from between them, allowing Sans to sink over his dick before the smaller skeleton huffed out a startled breath. Red’s face was alight with excitement, his grin widening when he saw his brother’s expression. Sans didn’t get to see as much as suddenly Red’s mouth was on his, hot like a fever.

“Keep his mouth occupied, Sans.”

While Sans shuddered with the request, it was difficult to sense if it had been for him or for Red. Red, nonetheless, grinned between kisses, his aim to steal Sans’ breaths and wreck him while Edge gave a tentative thrust upward. It was slight and far gentler than Sans had been expecting, but it made him moan into Red’s mouth, passion fired up and ready.

“Fuck-”

It was a green light as far as anything else went. Edge withdrew his hips again, holding onto Sans and pushing back inside, careful not to take too fast nor too roughly. The stretch encompassed him so completely that Edge buried his face against Sans’ neck with a rough noise, kissing where Red didn’t, allowing Sans to take what he could.

His legs were shaky, but Sans started to roll his hips with every thrust, groans coaxed out of him with the slap of magic and Edge holding onto him tightly. He focused on the sight of Red and Sans in his clothes, smelling of him, enjoying each other as he fucked Sans. He indulged in the dirty fantasy of treating Sans well, stroking over the crown of his skull, of whispering affection to both of them with no recourse to his thoughts. Edge nearly lost himself, pivoting Sans over his dick at just an angle to make the smaller skeleton cry out in pleasure.

He felt the warning seizes around his dick, how Sans’ eyes guttered out and how Red continued to whisper filth into his aural canal, enough to make him flush and groan in time to Edge’s thrusts. Sans’ grasp on his chemise was hard, phalanges damn-near tearing a hole through the fabric in his desperation to hold on tightly and never let go. He was doing the same to his brother, holding onto the back of his neck so hard that bone creaked.

He swore. They were small but they served as an underlying punch to Edge’s affections. He loved it when Red relinquished control to him, hand over fist. And now Sans was giving himself freely to him, too.

His expression contorted when Sans’ walls convulsed around him, squeezing him in a beat that mimicked their souls when Sans came hard around his dick. Every thrust thereafter was slickened and wet, becoming louder as Edge picked up the pace.

Though he wanted to, there was no point in honestly screwing his poor brains out on the first run. Edge eventually grabbed Red and pulled him forward to give him a burning kiss, then untangled his hand to grasp his cock and finish Red off. He felt the way Red looked at him, leaning against his thigh with hot and heavy breaths strung out between them and Sans still open around him.

When Red spilled into his hand, Edge licked that which covered his hand, giving a few more rolling thrusts until the smear of his magic leaked out of Sans’ spent pussy. It was humid and hot, the scent of sex thick in the room when he pulled Sans up and off of his softening cock, cradling him like a treasure he wanted to keep forever.

He sent a glare at Red, who recovered from the brisk handjob with hooded eyes, voice fucked rough as he breathed just as raggedly. There was a silent understanding between the two of them now, one that was never under debate even though it had never come up.

Sans was theirs now. Theirs to share, theirs to dote on, theirs to protect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to 0neType, because it's their fault this came out as long as it did because I came to them all HELP HOW DO I GET THEM TO FUCK. So basically the cute shit at the start is their fault 😂😂😂


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